


Legacies

by stellahibernis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky is found first, Bucky is mostly angry about them, M/M, SHIELD and their dubious methods, sharon is less than impressed with the dubious methods, steve is lost in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellahibernis/pseuds/stellahibernis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They died in 1945, but it could have been called a conception instead, because it was only a start of a gestation period. They would be reborn as something else.</p><p>In 1972 Arnim Zola died and the HYDRA within SHIELD got reckless, made a mistake and was destroyed and chased away. The Winter Soldier, suspended in ice, was recovered.</p><p>In 1975 James Barnes (not Bucky, never again Bucky) disappeared with a promise from Peggy Carter that neither she nor SHIELD would ever try to find him again.</p><p>In 1991 a five year old Sharon Carter, enthralled by stories of her great aunt, decided she'd become a spy just like her.</p><p>In 2007 she was assigned her first position within SHIELD.</p><p>In 2012 Steve Rogers woke up in the future, and pieces started falling into place.</p><p>James, going by another name by then, woke up one morning and just knew everything had changed.</p><p>SHIELD soon decided they would have a lot more use for the war hero Captain America than Steve Rogers, a veteran suffering from PTSD.</p><p>And Sharon had a choice to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacies

**Author's Note:**

> Should be apparent in context, but the horizontal line means a change in POV, the three stars a break in the narrative while POV stays the same.

Consciousness returned instantaneously; it felt like it had only been a blink in the dark between the two moments. First he was suffocating and freezing water was pressing into his lungs, and then suddenly he was not. He was warm but not hot, lying on a soft bed. A baseball game on the radio was the first thing he recognized. After that he recognized nothing.

The smell in the air was different, and the room didn’t look like any real place he’d been in. Even the quality of light was off. He found out why a moment later when he burst through the wall and saw that it wasn’t the sun at all but lamps, and all he could think was that he needed to get away.

It was New York, he knew it in his bones somehow, and yet it wasn’t the New York he remembered. It made him stop in the middle of the street, surrounded by tall buildings and flashing colors on the walls. He wanted to wake up but he knew he couldn’t. He was already awake.

Afterwards he couldn’t remember what he said to Nick Fury when he was told he’d been sleeping for decades. He hadn’t heard any more of the explanation, he’d just looked around again, and all he could think of was, _Is this a test?_ The question came to him suddenly, as it had many times before, but he didn’t bother voicing it, because he didn’t need to know the answer. It wouldn’t matter either way.

Later he couldn’t help but think that everything was a test.

***

They addressed him as the Captain, always, and he didn’t much like it but didn’t bother telling them not to either. He wasn’t even sure if it was true anymore, or if it was just because of Captain America. It was the first thing he learned, the first thing they told him. His legacy, how what he had done was now part of history, something that every child learned at school. He didn’t bother telling them that the stories didn’t really taste like the truth.

They gave him files on everyone he knew, and there were red words stamped on them; _deceased, deceased, deceased_. All the commandos were gone, thankfully in peace. Howard Stark was the only one who had died violently, in a car accident, leaving a son who, according to his file, seemed to have inherited Howard’s inventor’s nature and then some.

Peggy was the only one whose file said _retired_ , and there was a current address and a phone number, along with her service record, including decades as the director of SHIELD, and names of a husband and children. A whole life that had passed by.

And then there was a file that had Bucky’s photo attached to it, and the red words spelled _missing in action_. Steve knew the military was loathe to actually declare anyone killed in action without recovering their body, but nearly seventy years felt excessive. He wondered if there was a set time period after which one was declared dead regardless. Suddenly, an all but forgotten exchange rose to his mind, the voices echoing in his head.

_Where are we going?_

_To the future._

Steve wanted to cry, to shout that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to be there at all. He never imagined going anywhere alone and yet, now it was his reality.

He closed the file folder and looked at the book he was given, one that was supposedly a comprehensive take on the history and impact of Captain America. It was comforting, in a way, because here was something that had lasted, perhaps not as he’d envisioned back during the war, but something of his was still left. Maybe it would be enough to last him through.

It all just felt desperately hollow.

 

* * *

 

James woke up feeling disoriented. It wasn’t unusual, and he did what he always did, reminded himself of his name, the name he went by these days, and that it was 2012 and not any other year. It grounded him somewhat, but there was a sense of unease about him that he just couldn’t shake that day.

He made a cup of coffee and then did his usual security check. There was nothing special happening in the world in general as told by the news, and his less official channels said the same. There were no indications that anyone was onto him or even looking, nothing on the email that he’d given to his surviving relatives. His perimeter check around the house came clear. Every indicator told him he was safe, there was nothing he should worry about. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was about to happen.

By the afternoon it had become difficult to ignore the unease, and he gave up the ghost and packed his things. He figured it was just that he’d been spending too much time in one place, wouldn’t have been the first time. In the late seventies and early eighties the longest he’d managed to stay in one place had been eleven weeks. Back then his instincts had been so raw and distrust so close to surface that he couldn’t manage longer. Only he’d thought those days were gone, now that he’d stayed for almost ten years at the house, his security net still tight but no longer feeling the need to run.

He cleaned out the house just in case he ended up never coming back. There weren’t that many things he needed to bring, just his computer, a few other pieces of surveillance equipment, and of course his weapons. Then it was just wiping down the surfaces.

There was nothing in the house that was in any way connected to his identity, not even history books. There was nothing on his person either. He used to have notebooks full of information, of memories, but in the decades since he walked away from SHIELD he had come to trust his own head again, and he didn’t need them anymore. He had a few storage spaces where he’d stashed everything he had on HYDRA, and another space with intel, more or less current, on SHIELD. Everything on his family members, their addresses and other ways to contact them, he had memorised.

And Steve, well. Most days he did his best to not think about Steve at all.

At dusk he threw his bags into the truck and drove away, heading towards east. He hadn’t been to the city for years, and it would be easy to lose himself in the bustle of people.

 

* * *

 

Sharon had barely had time to be debriefed on her latest mission before she got whisked out to another meeting. They didn't even give her time to shower, so she figured it had to be important. She just hoped it wasn’t going to be a long mission, because she hadn't seen her apartment for six weeks, and it had been more than twice that since she saw anyone from her family. But it was a career she chose, and she hadn't regretted it for a second, even if there were moments when she wished all the crises would take a break and let her have at least a few nights of good sleep in succession.

Turned out the meeting was not about something they wanted her to do, but something they wanted her _not_ to do.

Turned out, Captain America had been found alive and in perfect health albeit in need of defrosting, and was currently in New York, learning things about the modern world. It was a testament to the nature of Sharon's life that this wasn't even the weirdest thing that had happened during her career in SHIELD. It topped the tally of the year though, but it was only April.

It was not a discussion really, she was told that it had been deemed better that he not meet her, at least for the time being. That it would probably only confuse Rogers, distract him. Sharon nodded, and took her leave as soon as she could. It was no use to argue, and she wasn’t even sure she would have wanted to, or what for.

Back at home she took a long, hot shower, and turned everything she had just been told around in her head while she worked to get dirt off her hair. There was one word that kept coming back to her. Distraction. They'd said finding out about her would distract Rogers. Of course, that meant there had to be something to distract him from, and Sharon didn't think it was about getting used to the modern world. Surely that would happen easier with people that were at least tangentially familiar. There had to be some other purpose, and it probably wasn't any purpose that Rogers himself had thought up.

***

Technically she did exactly as she had been told. She didn't try to get in touch with Rogers. He was in New York, she stayed back in DC, and seemingly enjoyed relaxing and boring days. It appeared there was no hurry to get her back into field, so she kept to her usual routine; checked out updates to the procedures, went to the shooting range and combat training. She also discreetly found out everything she could about Rogers.

It wasn’t that hard really, since it seemed to be fairly common knowledge within SHIELD by now that Captain America had been found. Apparently he'd recently graduated into wandering around New York alone, although probably shadowed by at least a dozen agents at all times. It meant that it would have been no use trying to keep his existence a secret within SHIELD. From the outside world yes, for the time being anyway. Sharon doubted it would be like that for much longer.

It was a little more difficult to find out everything about Rogers without it looking like she was asking questions, but she wasn't one of SHIELD's top agents for nothing. One could learn a lot from just steering conversation without really appearing to be doing so, and she knew where to get her information. It was one of the lessons her great aunt had drilled into her from the moment Sharon had decided to get into the spy business: always know your own organisation top to bottom. Undoubtedly something Peggy had felt even more keenly after they’d found out HYDRA within the still growing SHIELD before Sharon’s birth.

It didn't take long for a picture to start to form, and it was glaringly obvious what SHIELD, or the people with any say in the matter anyway, was doing. It was even tactically justifiable, although she wasn’t convinced of the long term viability of the plan, with all the uncertainties she could see. It was definitely not the most humane solution, if one considered it at the individual level, but she already knew that SHIELD's methods often put the needs of many over the needs of one. Especially when it came to people who had signed up for the job.

Clearly SHIELD had decided they had use for Captain America, but Captain America of the histories and legends was different from the man who wore the uniform. She’d always known as much from her aunt’s stories. She also knew how easy it was to push someone into a mold they didn’t quite fit in, especially if they were in a vulnerable state. And someone just having been transplanted 70 years into future was definitely in a vulnerable state. That was not even starting to count the fact that Rogers was a soldier, with a high chance of suffering from PTSD in general and who’d just days earlier had to watch his best friend die before going to his own apparently certain death.

And speaking of dead best friends, for all that she tended to be pragmatic, it still chilled Sharon when she happened to find out that SHIELD had no intention of telling Rogers that James Barnes made it out alive. It clearly spoke of the intention to isolate Rogers, to carefully control who he associated with. It was feasible the cover up would even work. As opposite to Rogers, Barnes’ status was not general knowledge even within the agency. She hadn’t heard about it through official channels either, but through Aunt Peggy.

Now she wondered what Barnes would do when it inevitably became public knowledge that Captain America was back. More than that, she wondered what she herself would do with everything she had found out. For the first time in her life she had no idea which choice she would make.

 

* * *

 

Steve had never thought he’d live to see the day that New York was a stranger to him, but there he was in the future, and it was. At first it was overwhelming, especially Manhattan with its high rise buildings, all the cars and colorful billboards. It felt like everything was changed, up to the way people dressed, and it was nothing like the stories set in the future had predicted. He felt completely at loss.

After a while he started finding similarities, familiar things, and it was not just the buildings that he still recognized. He started to see that the beat, the soul of the city was still much the same it always had been. It was a relief, to know his home city hadn’t completely disappeared, but it didn’t make this new New York feel like home again. Nor did it make things easier.

Brooklyn was even more disorienting than Manhattan. The overall feeling there was more familiar, so much so that he started to almost see things that no longer existed at the corner of his eye. The grocer, the diner, the shoeshiner in the corner. And worse, the people he had known. A group of children that passed him for a moment looked like his classmates. A small blond woman in a long coat nearly took his breath away, because there was something like his mother about her step. Only for a second, then the illusion was gone.

Worst of all, there was a constant absence at his side. There should have been another set of feet matching step with his, except he had much longer legs now. There should have been a steady presence at his side while he walked across the bridge back to Manhattan, or bumping his shoulder at the time of the swaying of the train. There should have been and there wasn’t. The wound inflicted seventy years ago, only some days ago, was still raw, and Steve didn’t think he’d ever stop feeling the absence.

Truth was, he didn’t want to.

 

* * *

 

James had been to New York a few times since he’d left for the war, and he was reasonably familiar with it. In some ways it changed much faster than some other, smaller cities, but in other ways there was steadiness about it, a character that stayed the same through the years. It was comforting in a way. It wasn’t home anymore; he wasn’t sure any place would ever feel like that to him. Even his living relatives were just people he cared about more than random people on the street, but there was no home for him with them either. There were just places he stayed at, and he’d resolved for it to be that way for the rest of his life, however long that might be.

It was a mistake to go to Brooklyn. He didn’t even intend it, he just walked and ended up there. It was the same as everything else in the city, strange and familiar all at the same time, but something there must have tripped his brain up in a way that hadn’t happened in decades. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a man, and he’d almost turned around and called the name that hadn’t left his lips since the seventies before he remembered. Remembered that Steve was gone, buried in ice in the Arctic. It had been just some other tall and broad blond man, and James must have just projected the gait of his friend over the familiar traits.

He headed back to Manhattan, found a seedy bar and tried to convince himself that the whisky actually had some effect on him.

 

* * *

 

Sharon kept to her routine and tried to decide what she wanted to do. She went to work, out running, took care of her errands. She knew it wouldn’t take long before she got another assignment, possibly somewhere abroad. It would make sense if SHIELD wanted to make sure she didn’t contact Rogers. She was running out of time, only she didn’t even know if there was anything she wanted to do that she needed time for.

Then again, just the fact that she felt like she was running out of time said a lot.

She went to visit Aunt Peggy on her day off, as she often did. They’d always been close; as a little girl Sharon had worshipped her aunt as a hero, and as soon as she understood what it meant, she’s decided she wanted to work for SHIELD as well. Peggy had lead SHIELD for decades, hadn’t retired until she was well into her eighties, still able to keep up with people decades younger. But no more; her body and her brain were finally giving up on her, and it had been hard for Sharon to watch the slow descent, the weakening and the confusion brought by dementia.

She’d grown on the stories about her aunt, about her husband who’d been wounded in war but hadn’t let it slow him down, about the war time and Captain America. Stories about the real Steve Rogers behind the mask, the one who’d burned with purpose both all encompassing, for his country and the just cause, and for a more personal purpose, one that had meant he pulled his best friend out of Hell when everyone else had given up hope.

Sharon sat with Peggy who was just generally more tired than usual and dozed off for most of the time, but at least she recognized Sharon, which wasn’t always the case. She thought back to all the stories she’d been told, from the war time, and the more recent ones from the seventies. The even more harrowing ones, about HYDRA and the Winter Soldier, about his battle to regain semblance of his humanity only to find out that his best friend had been lost for decades already. He’d disappeared, taking nothing with him except a promise that neither Peggy nor SHIELD would ever look for him.

Privately Sharon had always been a little surprised SHIELD hadn’t gone back on that promise. As far as she knew anyway, and she knew better than her superiors intended. Barnes was a man trained and brainwashed by a foreign regime, used by HYDRA, and hence likely to be considered a threat. But perhaps him having lived quietly for almost four decades had convinced at least Fury, as much as he could be convinced.

As for herself, the question was clear. Would she go along with SHIELD’s plan, or would she try to bring the men displaced in time back together? In a way it could have been the easiest choice in the world. For the longest time, the person she respected the most was her Aunt Peggy, and the big goal in her life was to work for and advance in SHIELD. Both these seemed to indicate she should just leave it be.

There were also all kinds of uncertainties. Would Rogers and Barnes even want to meet again, could they take it, with everything that had happened? What about Captain America associating with someone that could be branded as a traitor? What if there was still some longer conspiracy going on with the Winter Soldier? What about keeping promises, honoring legacies?

There at the nursing home she asked these questions of herself, trying to make a decision. And then she started thinking that maybe it wasn’t at all her decision that mattered, and that Rogers and Barnes were robbed of a chance to make their own choices. She knew, as did everyone in her profession, that sometimes for greater good choices had to be taken away, but she also believed there had to be solid enough reason, and she couldn’t see one here. And ultimately she had never been too strict about following orders.

Her aunt hadn’t told her exactly what they’d talked about with Barnes before he left, not even generalities. Just some details, like the promise she’d made. But it was compelling enough, because if Peggy had thought Barnes was a threat, she never would have let him go, never would have made the promise, regardless of their shared experiences. And even if she had kept the promise for all the years, she’d never imagined these circumstances. Neither had he, Sharon was sure.

With all that, it was clear to her what she had to do.

***

When the choice was made, it was also clear what the action must be. Contacting Rogers was out of question, since he was surrounded by agents all the time, and it was against her orders. As much as she regretted that he had to needlessly suffer thinking his best friend was dead, her course was clear. She had to make contact with Barnes, and that was easier said than done.

She knew enough of his training that she also knew trying to track him down by herself without SHIELD’s resources would be futile. He was too good at disappearing, and had stayed hidden for decades now, which meant the trail was cold. The only possible point of contact was his extended family, but Sharon didn’t think she’d get enough information through them that would make finding him possible. Most likely they wouldn’t even know his whereabouts. However, she was fairly sure she could count of Barnes’ paranoia, and that he’d be monitoring in case someone was coming after him.

Which meant that all she needed to do was make it known that she was looking for him, and make it intriguing enough that he would contact her instead of just disappearing somewhere further away. She wasn’t concerned that he’d take her as a threat to be eliminated, for all that she’d heard she believed he’d left that life firmly behind.

It wasn’t hard at all to find the extended Barnes family, and she chose a great niece that was studying medicine in Baltimore. It was just a hunch, but Sharon though she was her best chance of getting hold of his great uncle. That she lived relatively close by was a bonus.

She drove up on Sunday, enjoying the good weather and keeping an eye on the traffic around her. She wasn’t followed, as far as she could tell. It didn’t surprise her, considering it was known she was very serious about SHIELD, and hence not likely to go against orders. She parked away from her destination and walked the rest of the way, just to make sure.

Winifred Proctor was alone at home, her roommate being gone, which was purely a stroke of luck. As was the fact that the building was old with a simple lock on the door to stairwell that Sharon could open with her snap gun in seconds. Beyond that, she was going to be as honest as she could.

“My name is Sharon Carter. I’m looking for your uncle,” she said straight after the door opened.

Sharon knew she’d made a right choice when Winifred’s expression became guarded. Clearly she knew who she meant, and probably recognized her name as well. She continued, “He’s not in trouble and I’m not doing this for SHIELD. Only I need a word with him, regarding an old friend. It’s something I believe he would want to know.”

Winifred didn’t look too trusting, but she didn’t try to close the door either, and took the piece of paper Sharon handed her.

“That’s all my contact information, he can reach me there, or you can, if you need.”

Winifred didn’t make her any promises, not even to pass the message along, but Sharon was sure she was going to. The had been a fair bit of protectiveness in her, which meant she was likely in somewhat regular contact with Barnes and thus would make sure he knew he was being looked for. Sharon drove back to DC, knowing there was only one thing she could do now. Wait.

 

* * *

 

Steve didn’t dream for several nights after he first woke up in the future, or at least if he did, he didn’t remember them. He didn’t sleep that much either, didn’t really feel tired at all, and when he tried to sleep it was fitful and broken. No dreams.

After a day of going through rigorous physical testing, he finally did feel tired, and going to sleep felt natural, it was something he wanted to do instead of just doing it because it was a habit. He fell asleep soon after lying down and slept for most of the night. Afterwards he didn’t really feel good about it at all, because dreams came back, and they were nothing like he’d ever experienced.

He’d had nightmares before, of being sick, of losing her mother or Bucky, of war and all the possible losses there, but they were something he could wake up from, could brush away. This one felt like it lasted forever, and he knew he was dreaming, but he just couldn’t wake up.

It was all war, the terror one felt when death was all too close, like it had felt that time they had been stuck in a dugout being shelled at. There was Red Skull and this time he was too strong, and Steve himself was again ninety pounds soaking wet and riddled with ailments. There was nothing he could do. He felt himself die, he watched everyone he cared about die too. Peggy getting shot through the heart instead of shoulder, the commandos all on the ground, torn by grenades, Bucky on that table except he was silent and gone by the time Steve reached him. There was his mother, out of place in the European forest, lying in the snow and riddled with bullets. And there was Bucky falling, always falling, and it was the worst because in the dream it played exactly as it had in reality.

He finally gasped awake, feeling like drowning again, his lungs burning, eyes stinging. It was barely past five, but he decided it was morning enough to get up. He dressed and headed straight out. It was cool, almost cold that morning, and he zipped his jacket up against the wind, tucked his hands into pockets while he walked towards the river. He got coffee from one of the identical places that seemed to be always open, and even if it didn’t really affect him physically anymore, or even taste the same, it was still a ritual that made him feel a bit more grounded.

After that night he didn’t get better at sleeping, maybe even the opposite. There were dreams occasionally, and he started thinking that in a way the good dreams from the past were equally frightening as his nightmares.

SHIELD had set him up in an apartment, furnished but there was nothing personal in there. He had a schedule, for tests to see that there weren’t any lingering complications or just for testing the effects of the serum. There were people to talk to him, to educate him about the future or just discuss his mental state. It was quite apparent they were trying to decide whether he was ready to be sent to field, and he welcomed the idea. He felt like he was somehow suspended between states, waiting for something he didn’t even know about yet, and the possibility of getting to punch something would probably help.

In the meantime, he made do with punching bags in a gym that was probably old school, but to him felt easy, familiar. The owner let him stay after hours, as if such a request wasn’t anything to bat an eye at. The place wasn’t affiliated with SHIELD, but Steve wasn’t really surprised when Director Fury turned up one night, to call him to action. He was relieved at the call, but only until he saw what it was about.

 

* * *

 

James woke up in his dingy hotel room and set up to do his normal security check. He was in Cleveland, having left New York the morning after straying into Brooklyn. Before he’d thought he’d continue south, check on Winnie in Baltimore, but the moment in Brooklyn had made his skin crawl even at the idea of confronting someone connected to his past. He’d headed to west instead, still feeling restless and uneasy.

All of his security measures were at place, no indicators that he should worry were at sight until he checked the email that selected members of his family knew about. It wasn’t odd for there to be messages, there was the occasional greeting, although most of them remained distant, not knowing how to handle what had happened to him. He didn’t blame them at all, considering he himself wasn’t so sure he was handling it, despite all the pretense he made to indicate otherwise.

Winnie was the only one who regularly messaged him, sometimes just to say hi, to update him on her life, and sometimes demanding a proof of life when she felt he hadn’t replied in too long a time. She wasn’t too fazed about him in general, which was why she was his favorite, the only one he could make himself really care about.

This time her message was marked important and the subject matter, _Someone came and asked about you_ , put him to full alert. The description of Winnie’s meeting with Sharon Carter didn’t do much to ease that feeling, but neither did it make him think he needed to disappear immediately. Carter had said she wasn’t there for SHIELD, and while that could have been a lie, what she had said to Winnie didn’t make sense if SHIELD was after him. They would have put a lot more effort on convincing Winnie to give out his location for starters, even when they had to be relatively sure she didn’t know it.

He read the message over and over again, and while obviously having to rely on Winnie’s memory instead of a recording of the meeting, he tentatively came to the conclusion that Carter had probably told the truth when she’d said she didn’t look for him on behalf of SHIELD, and maybe even with the reason she gave. Something about an old friend of his, ambiguous enough to raise curiosity, which was obviously the intent, to have him make contact.

He wasn’t going to. Even if it wasn’t SHIELD, he still didn’t much care about making his presence known, and her reason wasn’t really compelling. Most of the people he knew from before the fall were gone, and there was nothing about them that was urgent, or even something he needed. Peggy Carter was the only one still alive. He wondered if contacting him was the idea of the younger Carter or the older going back on his word. He couldn’t be sure, and regardless there wasn’t really anything he would want to say or hear from her. He’d made it clear 37 years earlier, and nothing significant had changed since.

After he’d been recovered from HYDRA and was slowly regaining his sense of self and memories, Peggy Carter had spent a lot of time with him, despite the fact that she was extremely busy at the head of SHIELD. She’d been the one to tell him what had happened to Steve when he’d finally gathered enough courage to ask, and subsequently agreed to not mention it again. She’d been there all through the process of his recovery, and he probably should have seen the suggestion come a mile away but hadn’t.

It had surprised him when she’d offered him a position at SHIELD. He knew the gesture to be a sign of trust, after all the way HYDRA had first gained foothold had been through recruiting former enemies. And since he was skilled in many ways SHIELD needed, it made sense to ask him. Afterwards he’d wondered about her motives, had she thought it would be best for him? Or had she thought it would be best for SHIELD, regardless of what going back to it would mean for him? He’d told her, not that kindly really, that he was was done, had rather pointedly asked her if she didn’t think he’d served enough, and she’d flinched. He still didn’t know if it was because he’d called her out, or because she hadn’t thought he might not want to. Because she certainly had, had dedicated a big portion of her life to national and international security. He knew well enough that when something was all one wanted to do, it was often difficult to remember that other people might think differently. Not everyone wanted to give their all to their country.

James hadn’t then, and didn’t now. And her asking hadn’t been enough to make him go against his own desire. There wasn’t a single thing in the world anymore that had that kind of influence over him.

 

* * *

 

Sharon got called back to work in the middle of the night, a sure sign of a crisis. In the end there wasn’t much they could do, they were on standby, but never got the call. The events moved too fast, and it was hard to keep track even from inside SHIELD, since a lot of what was happening pertained classified information that trickled to them very much after the fact.

There was the incident in Stuttgart, and when Sharon saw Rogers was in play, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to make Barnes contact her, as he hadn’t yet. Not that she had expected it to happen immediately. She also couldn’t help but wonder if it was going to be too late, and despite knowing she should just concentrate on mission, it made her feel sad. Perhaps the sacrifice of happiness of one person or a few people was insignificant compared to the big picture of international security, and yet she keenly felt like it was a slippery slope.

The rest of it happened too fast; they heard about the attack on the helicarrier, and then there were aliens attacking New York, and there was not much they could do, no way to mobilise fast enough. All they could do was wait and hope, and minutes had never felt so long to Sharon. She’d always wanted to act, had hated waiting and now, perhaps the most important moment in the history of all, she was in the right place, career wise, and still could do nothing.

Somehow the Avengers won the day, even if there was a nuclear missile launched at the orders of the World Security Council, and if that wasn’t a slippery slope she didn’t know what was.

The immediate clean-up and aftermath took days, and during the time she only slept a handful of hours, same as everyone else. When finally a week later she stumbled back to her apartment she was nearly dead on her feet, and felt like she had more questions than answers.

 

* * *

 

Steve had thought it would be good to be Captain America again, that maybe it would help with his alienation in the future, but it all just kept getting worse and more ridiculous by the moment. There was the object of the mission, the Tesseract, that immediately made him furious. He’d gone to what was supposed to be certain death in the process of trying to make sure the world was safe from it, had woken up to find out that he hadn’t died but really might have as well, since everything he’d ever cared about was gone, and now, just days later he was expected to fight the same fight again.

Except this time there were other superheroes. And aliens that were basically the Norse gods. And now he worked with SHIELD, that although in many ways a successor to SSR, still had designs to use HYDRA weaponry. A colossally dumb idea, Steve thought, considering SHIELD had nearly once already turned into HYDRA itself. Maybe 40 years was just too long a time to retain any lessons.

Steve felt like he was in so many ways out of his depth, and yet there were moments, just moments, that felt right. The twang of the shield still sang in his veins, the star on his chest was familiar, even if the suit was strange on the whole, not to mention impractical. The tiniest spark of camaraderie with Natasha Romanoff.

It was after the attack to the helicarrier, strangely, that things started to turn around. Things were worse than ever, with their prisoner loose and an alien attack imminent, but they started communicating. And then somehow they pulled through all the horror of the attack to New York, all the chaos and despair. Somehow they won.

***

Afterwards Steve wasn’t sure of what he wanted to do. SHIELD wanted him to keep being Captain America, and truth be told he wanted to do it himself too. The shield was still his, still familiar in all the strangeness. He also thought there were the makings of an actual team in the Avengers. On the other hand, he had some serious reservations about SHIELD and the way they operated.

The days immediately after they’d sent Thor and Loki back to Asgard with the Tesseract, he took part in relief effort, volunteering in digging through the debris. It didn’t last long, because inevitably someone recognized him and let the press know he was there, and working became impossible. After a week he decided to give up, head out of New York for a while and try to figure out what he wanted to do.

It wasn’t difficult to acquire a motorcycle, and SHIELD had conveniently supplied him with a driver’s license. While he was packing his few belongings, his eyes happened upon the stack of files on the table. He considered for a moment and then pulled out Peggy’s. There it was, an address and a phone number. Washington DC. Might as well.

 

* * *

 

James was furious when the footage from Germany started trickling in. He didn’t even care that there was some superpowered alien wearing over the top robes and helmet. He cared that the few shots that, though from far away and lacking detail, were clear enough to portray some clown wearing the Captain America uniform. There even was a replica of the shield. Whoever they were, they had no right, and James was half-determined to tell them so, SHIELD be damned.

It was only when he thought about SHIELD, because obviously this was their idea, he also thought about the message he’d gotten from Sharon Carter. Now he wondered if it wasn’t about Peggy after all. It also called to question what her angle was. Had she wanted to warn him? Or maybe explain? The first would fit with her saying it wasn’t for SHIELD, the latter not so much, but he still wasn’t convinced she’d told him the truth there. Regardless of her reasons, it would have been reasonable to assume that he wasn’t going to take it well, no matter their reasoning. As he didn’t.

He was scouring the internet for more information about the incident when he truly felt like he’d been transformed into a science fiction story. In a way he’d lived in one for decades, ever since HYDRA, ever since Steve, tall and healthy, had pulled him off that table. His left arm was a constant reminder of it. And yet, hearing reports of a full scale alien invasion in New York took everything to a new level, and all he could think about was that he wouldn’t get his chance to give his mind to the Captain America impostor, because surely this was the end.

Except it wasn’t, because there were some who managed to stand against the aliens and win. Tony Stark’s Iron Man was there, as well as the Hulk, and the red cloaked viking god-alien he’d read about the year before. And then there was the impostor, as James should have guessed.

The snippets of video were few and far between, but he could tell that after a while the group came up with a somewhat coherent tactics and started to come on top, until something happened at the portal and all of the aliens suddenly died. At that point James registered it on autopilot, his mind occupied by another question.

 _It couldn’t be._ That was an overwhelming certainty in him, because it was tied to the hardest thing he’d had to deal with after coming back to his senses. But there was a snippet of footage of the impostor, and the way he moved, the way he flung the shield was familiar. It should have been impossible, but there it was. The glaring possibility that it wasn’t an impostor at all. SHIELD could put someone in the costume, could change faces, could even train to match movement, but to this degree? To make it close enough that James’ very bones sang with recognition? He couldn’t believe that. And yet, the only other option was scarier.

For the first time since forever he felt something akin to hope, and he pushed it away, because he couldn’t deal with it, couldn’t deal with it if it turned out he was wrong. Probably wouldn’t be able to deal with it if he was right, either. Yet, he had to know, and soon he was in his car, on the way towards New York again.

Could it be, after all? Could it actually be Steve?

***

It took him some creativity, but he made it into the city and once there he had no trouble with fading into the masses. Slipping into the quarantined area was easy as anything, and he had a good view of the park when the viking aliens teleported away with the blue cube that made him feel queasy all over. And then he forgot all about it, because he got a look of Steve.

And it really was Steve, the was no doubt about it. Dressed in civilian clothes that were old fashioned by the standards of the day, even if the leather jacket did feel like Steve. There was the familiar cadence in his step, the slope of shoulder that James still sometimes saw in his dreams. Familiar golden hair, and eyes that seemed sad even through the distance and his scope.

Now he also knew for sure that he hadn’t imagined it after all days earlier in Brooklyn. He really had seen Steve, and he wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t stopped himself, had called out. He probably would have been here fighting the aliens. Probably. If Steve could bear to even look at him after what he’d done.

If he could bear to face Steve himself.

He didn’t approach, because the whole place was swarming with SHIELD agents, and it was quite clear that Steve was with them. And SHIELD knew about him. What did it mean for Steve, he couldn’t tell. Did Steve know about him? Did he know and had chosen not to even try and contact him? It didn’t feel at all unreasonable, even if it made James feel sick, same as he tended to do when remembering his time with HYDRA.

But now that he was here, he needed to know for sure, but he wasn’t going to confront Steve. If he’d made a choice to not see James, he was going to respect that. He also had an alternative source ready.

 

* * *

 

Sharon came in from her run, mind still for a change, thinking about nothing in particular. She had the door halfway closed when she realised she wasn’t alone, and was reaching for her gun when a voice came from her kitchen.

“I’d prefer you didn’t shoot me, I’m here to talk. As you requested.”

It was an unfamiliar voice, as there were no recordings of Barnes from the war, but it didn’t matter. She knew it was him. And, because she was not stupid even if she didn’t think of him as an active threat, she took her gun stashed next to the front door, but didn’t point it.

Barnes was sitting at her table, no weapons visible, the prosthetic hand covered by a glove. Still, even against a trained agent like herself he should be dangerous, unless he’d let go of training. Sharon would have bet a year’s wages that he hadn’t. The gun was a comforting weight in her hand, even if he didn’t seem at all fazed by it.

“I’m a bit surprised you didn’t remove the bullets, just to make sure,” she said, because something had to fill the silence.

“Hnn. I figured I’d take the chance that you actually did want to talk to me and nothing else. Winnie thought you seemed sincere enough, and she’s got good instincts about people.”

“Thought so too. And it’s not like you can’t handle yourself if it turns out you were wrong.”

Barnes inclined his head a barest fraction, acknowledging it. “You know, at first I thought the old friend you mentioned was Director Carter, but it’s not at all, is it?”

There was a hint of resentment when Barnes referred to her aunt, which she filed away but didn’t start unpacking right then. It was not distaste or disrespect, but it was certainly something. “No, it’s about Captain Rogers,” she said, and watched his face go carefully blank.

She explained how Rogers was found and then taken up to speed in the modern world by SHIELD. Barnes betrayed no feelings during the whole time, but she knew it was because he was keeping them away, not because they were not there. He was intent on every word, every tone of her voice, and she knew that she couldn’t lie even on the smallest detail there. He would know. Luckily, this was not one of her jobs where she had to rely on lies and deception.

“So, the question is, why are you telling me all of this, clearly outside of your responsibilities?” he asked, and right then there was a tiny crack in his mask, and Sharon could tell the question he was really asking. Why wasn’t Rogers the one making contact?

“SHIELD decided they’ll have use for Captain America,” she said, and his mouth twisted at the title. “Exactly. They are pushing him into the role, and doing so by eliminating other contacts. He knows about Aunt Peggy, because it would be impossible to hide her, but I’ve been ordered to not make contact at all. And since the world never got to find out you’re alive, that is easy to hide from him. He thinks you were never found.”

It was a curious thing, clearly he was still restraining himself, but Sharon could tell he was both furious and relieved at the same time, and it wasn’t at all hard to tell why. Furious at what SHIELD had done. Relieved because it was not Rogers’ choice to stay away.

“It might even work,” Barnes said after a moment, reflecting. “He always was serious about doing his duty, and not just any duty, the largest part he could get. More even. And especially since it was Carter founding SHIELD, that would push him staying in with them.”

“Maybe,” Sharon said. “But from what I’ve heard, and it’s not much, but I’ve been making due, he doesn’t seem to be too impressed by some methods of SHIELD.”

“Yeah, that shouldn’t surprise anyone. But what do you want to do now? Or actually, first tell me really, why are you doing this, what’s your motivation?”

He’d already asked the question, but now she had to give the other answer, the personal and true one. She was quiet for a minute, trying to find a way to explain it. “I took my job with SHIELD, knowing full well what it meant I’d have to do. Aunt Peggy made sure of that. But she also reminded me that I needed to keep track of lines that shouldn’t be crossed, because if we did that, we really would be indistinguishable from HYDRA. And when I found out how they were handling him, it was one of my lines I guess. He deserves to know the truth. You both do. And I contacted you first, because he’s got a net of spies around him thicker than the president right now.”

“I’m going to see him,” Barnes said, and she knew there was no room for argument there. All she could do was help him.

“Do you have a number I can reach you with? So I can let you know where he is. I don’t currently know, he helped with the relief effort, but that turned out into a media frenzy, so he left.”

He rattled a number at her without hesitation, clearly having prepared a burner in advance, and then he was gone, not leaving a single sign of his presence. Sharon put her gun away while mentally filing the number in her head, knowing better than to write it down. She got one of the phones she kept for emergency, and put it on charger, so that it would be ready when she needed to reach him.

She took a long shower replaying all that had happened. Barnes had seemed to be doing well all things considered, clearly hypervigilant, but at ease within himself. He’d seemed both younger and older than she’d expected. He was older than in the photos from the war, but not by much. He certainly didn’t look like he’d lived decades after that. Clearly whatever HYDRA had pumped into his veins slowed down aging, as Rogers’ serum was supposed to do as well.

Later in the afternoon she meant to see her aunt again, but was stopped by another agent before she got into the building. Captain Rogers was visiting her aunt, and as per instructions, she was forbidden to make contact. She didn’t argue at all, just left, although she wondered what they’d do if Peggy mentioned her niece also working for SHIELD. She might, if she was having a good day, as Sharon hoped for Rogers’ sake she did.

She walked into a park, away from any structures and other people before making a call.

 

* * *

 

After he’d been mobbed by reporters a few times during the relief effort, Steve had taken off, and also soon figured out he needed to blend in more. He had no training for undercover, which would have come in handy, but he knew how to observe. During the next few days he switched his clothes into a bit more modern versions and had a haircut. That and a ball cap seemed to do the trick, people stopped recognizing him. He left the SHIELD assigned clothes behind, only keeping the leather jacket, since he liked it. He didn’t dwell too much on why he’d been given old fashioned clothes. Maybe it had been to make him feel comfortable, but truthfully all the fabrics felt weird, so it didn’t really matter whether the cut was new. Except maybe with the jeans, but he figured he’d get used to them soon enough.

He took his time, but finally made it to DC and the nursing home that housed Peggy. He was let in straight away, apparently her family had added him on the list of approved guests as soon as they had found out about him.

Peggy was asleep, which was a blessing, because it took a while to adjust seeing her. In his still crystal clear memories she was young and vibrant, full of fire. Now she seemed almost translucent, her eyes sunken deeper, cheeks pale, hair white. Yet she was achingly familiar. He sat in the chair next to her, even if he really wanted to walk away, to come back later when it hurt less, but it didn’t feel fair to Peggy. She’d waited long enough.

Before he came in the nurses had explained about her condition, about how her memory was fading, but that they expected she’d recognize him well enough. It was only the newer things she tended to forget. Waiting was difficult, and he nearly walked out after all, but finally she opened her eyes.

Steve hadn’t really given thought what her reaction would be, the whole issue was painful, and so was the actual moment. Peggy was tired and old and yet still herself as he remembered. It was a good day for her, he thought, since she seemed to remember most of her life. He asked and she told him about SHIELD, about her war veteran husband and their children. And although hearing all of it meant losing her all over again in a way, he was also happy. She had had a full life of happiness and purpose, and it had been what he’d hoped for her in his last moments when the ice filled his vision.

He told her as much, kissed her hands that felt too frail in his, and it hurt, and yet he thought it would have been worse to never have had this moment. He stayed until she grew tired again and then left, promising to come back again the next day.

***

He went back, she greeted him happily, and they continued their discussion about her life, about what he wanted to do now. Steve didn’t delve too deep into his problems with SHIELD, and instead was just content let the hours pass.

He stepped out for a moment, and coming back he got a fresh reminder that nothing was as it used to be. There was a momentary confusion in Peggy’s eyes and then tears, as she again was surprised that Steve was alive. Then he realised that it was likely to happen again and again, and although he smiled through it, told her again how he’d been found, there was also a deep ache in his chest.

That night he went running, and didn’t stop until more than two hours later when it got dark. He wasn’t exhausted as he would have wanted, nor did he feel much more at ease. Peggy was all he had left from his life, and she was slipping away too. When she was gone, all he had left would be Captain America, and even that didn’t feel like it was fully his anymore. There was too much external baggage.

***

The next morning he went to run again, this time with less urgency. He kept a pace that for him was fairly easy, and enjoyed the scenery at the Mall while the dawn broke. There weren’t that many people around yet. Another man was also running the same lap as Steve did and as he passed he called, “On your left,” as a warning.

That might have been it, except the next time he passed the man he seemed grumpy, and the last time yelled at him, and Steve felt light for the first time since waking up. It had nothing to do with SHIELD or battles, just two men in the park, and he wandered back to find him. The man introduced himself as Sam Wilson, retired from Pararescue and now working with Veterans Affairs. Steve asked him a bit more about them both, as he wasn’t too well versed with the military these days yet. Sam was modest, but fairly soon it was clear that he was definitely a war hero, chosen to dedicate himself to saving lives instead of taking them, and continuing to help even as a civilian.

Steve had had varying amounts of connection with the Avengers, but Sam truly felt like he understood Steve. After a moment Sam didn’t look at him as Captain America, but a fellow soldier newly home from war. They talked for a while before Sam needed to head to work, and by then Steve had privately decided to take up the offer to visit at his workplace.

***

Steve went to VA later that same day, catching one of the sessions Sam was leading. It was completely new to him, but he got how sharing stories probably helped, to find out that no one was alone with their experiences. Maybe not even him, even if his being displaced in time was probably unique, war was still war. Mostly he was happy that these men and women had support; he remembered all too well the men with haunted gazes and various wounds from his childhood.

They talked more with Sam afterwards, and Steve learned about Sam’s wingman Riley, and his heart clenched with the pain of loss that was still raw in his heart. They touched on what Steve wanted to do, and he was gratified to learn that Sam was happy after retiring, it gave him hope that it would get better. Still, Sam’s not that casual question, what made him happy, stumped him. He had no answer.

Or more precisely, he did have an answer, but it was an impossibility.

It was right then that the door at the end of the corridor opened, and Steve glanced that way on reflex. And then he looked again, because surely he had seen wrong.

 

* * *

 

James was jittery after deciding to meet Steve. When he’d made the decision he hadn’t really thought about the possibilities, of what it might mean for him, but he did afterwards. At the moment he’d just been angry, at SHIELD, at everyone for lying and all he wanted was to set the record straight, because Steve deserved to know the truth. Steve deserved not to mourn him needlessly.

After, all the doubts came back. What if, in the end, the lie was kinder? James knew better than anyone what he’d done, and he couldn’t quite convince himself that Steve would just accept him again. Maybe Steve would reject him. Or maybe he would be his friend again, all the while in secret knowing that he was a killer and thinking it meant everything. Or maybe Steve would look at him and only see a victim, and blame himself, blame everyone. James couldn’t decide which one of these would be the worst.

He refused to back down though. He’d made a decision and he would stick to it, whatever the end result. Even if the end result could potentially be worse for him than anything that had happened. He also knew that if he could decide, Steve would want to know the truth, and maybe that was what James owed to him in the end.

And then, there was the possibility that he refused to think about, but what dominated his consciousness none the less. Maybe, just maybe it would end perfectly. It was impossible of course, there was too much history between them, separating them and bringing them together. And yet, the thought was still there.

***

When younger Carter called him to let him know Steve was in DC, he wanted to just get it over with, but it wasn’t that simple. There were SHIELD agents ostensibly guarding Steve, although James thought they were keeping an eye on him for more reasons than one. And one of the reasons probably was to prevent unintended outside influence.

James didn’t want to arrange the meeting anywhere near Carter’s nursing home, for reasons he quite couldn’t decipher even for himself. He just knew it was out of the question. In the end they located Steve at a VA office, although what he did there escaped them. They met a little distance away after separating to gather intel.

“I saw two agents,” Carter told him.

“I saw two more. Probably at least one inside too,” James said. “It’s not that many, and it’s unlikely to get any easier anywhere in the near future.”

“So —”

“So I’m going. Might as well be now,” James said and stretched his shoulders, reminded himself to use minimum force if someone was to try and stop him.

“Okay wait. I’ll talk to Fury. If I tell him it’s going to happen regardless, he might call them off. I don’t think he wants to alienate Rogers anymore than they already have.”

James nodded and she sent a short message, presumably some kind of code that meant she urgently needed to talk to the Director. The phone rang almost immediately, speaking about her value to the organisation. That might be an edge in their favor.

Without any greeting she said, “This is a courtesy call, an old friend of Captain Rogers’ is about to pay him a visit right now, and I think it would be in the best interests of everyone if the agents won’t try and interfere. Especially since considering the friend, Captain Rogers would not take it well.”

James didn’t hear the reply, if indeed there was one. Carter shut her phone, and he said, “Let’s go.”

They didn’t even make it to the building before they saw the agents outside clearly get a message and head away, and a moment later the door opened and another one came out. James didn’t spare any thought to them after. He paused at the door, left hand on the handle. Last chance to turn back, one that he would never take.

He opened the door and at the end of the corridor was Steve, talking to another man. Steve had different, more modern clothes, and a new haircut, but really nothing had changed. Nothing that would matter. And yet, as he strode nearer, James suddenly realised that even if he had memories, they were only pale imitations of reality. Steve himself was pale, swaying on his feet almost, and James was reminded anew what a shock it had to be. Especially since he knew that he himself definitely looked different.

Steve’s eyes were huge with surprise, bright and blue, and James realised he had forgotten the exact color, how they were like autumn sky low in the horizon.

 

* * *

 

Sharon walked after Barnes into the VA building, glad that SHIELD had decided to back down. She knew there would be consequences for her, but she didn’t care. More than ever, she was sure this was the right thing to do when Barnes stopped at the door, hesitating, clearly weighed down by the moment. And then determined, yanking the door, striding forward with almost a swagger in his step, different from the economy of movement she’d noted before. It took her a second to realise that this was definitely James Barnes and not the Winter Soldier she was watching.

Rogers took it about how she’d imagined, clearly shocked, probably not believing what he was seeing. He seemed rooted on the spot, and had only eyes for Barnes. Everything else could have disappeared and he wouldn’t have noticed.

When she got closer, she was was sort of surprised how young he seemed. Of course, it wasn’t that different from photos she’d seen, but somehow everything surrounding the Captain America persona had made him seem ageless even. And of course, she had always associated him to her aunt, and all through her life she had obviously been much older. But here he was, and for the first time she truly felt things click into place in her head, seeing this man behind the myth.

Rogers’ reaction was as she’d expected, and at the same time not really. He didn’t seem interested right then in asking any of the possible questions, just pulled Barnes close into a hug. The other man froze for a second, and then visibly relaxed all at once, all tension flowing away. It must have been painful to be hugged that close with that superhuman strength, but neither seemed to care. After a while Rogers pulled away just slightly, and touched Barnes’ cheek, fingers feather light against skin, still staring as if he couldn’t believe it was all real. It was intimate in a wholly unexpected way, and Sharon suddenly realised that one was tempted to draw conclusions based on it. Yet she had a feeling that it wouldn’t quite be accurate. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew.

It was also intimate enough that she suddenly realised they should probably be given at least a little privacy, and she and the man who Rogers had been talking to drifted farther. He introduced himself and then, his eyes crinkling, said, “I guess he does know the answer to the question I just asked him.” At Sharon’s questioning look he continued, “I asked him what made him happy, because clearly, and understandably, he wasn’t. Now it’s a different story.”

Later she ended up taking Rogers phone and keys to his bike, both of those liable to have trackers, and then the two men left. She didn’t ask where, and it still felt like the right thing.

***

There were consequences, of course there were, but not as much as she had counted probable. Nick Fury’s dressing down was what she’d expected, but in the end he veered onto a different track. He’d come to SHIELD while her aunt was in charge, and Sharon knew Peggy had been one of his more prominent mentors.

“Director Carter had a lot of advice,” he said, “and one she often liked to repeat was to remind people of their lines, what they were and what the crossing of them would cost. As well as to make clear which were the lines that couldn’t be crossed. I suspect she gave you that same advice.”

“She did. I’ve always tried to live with it.”

“I see. Think he’ll come back? Rogers?” He asked, and she knew he had an opinion on it, just wanted to see if she agreed. She was fairly sure they did.

“I think he’ll come back on his own terms this time.”

He nodded and turned to his paperwork. “Dismissed.”

She made her way back to the locker room, feeling like she’d made a step ahead during the whole thing. At least for herself. She’d have to see how it translated to her job at SHIELD, but she wasn’t nervous. She packed her things, getting ready to go see her aunt, and decided to just keep to her routine until she’d be sent to the next mission. She had a distinct suspicion it wouldn’t be an easy one or in any way interesting either, but it was okay. She could take it.

 

* * *

 

Steve was slouching in his seat, comfortable in the heat of sun through the windows. Bucky had mentioned there was no air conditioning in the truck since it was old and Steve had felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Laughing because he truly didn’t care, nothing was uncomfortable compared to the hole in his heart ever since he’d watched Bucky fall, and that was now on the mend. Not gone, but better. And he felt like crying, because the remark so thoroughly communicated that Bucky had gotten immersed into this world, that it was his normal, different from Steve’s. That he had been thrown in the future too, but gotten out early, and had spent most of his time alone.

Steve couldn’t help but blame himself for that, even though Bucky told him not to, didn’t blame him at all. After they’d gotten a little bit away from DC Bucky had told what had happened to him after he fell, clearly  expecting Steve to react badly, to reject him at least to an extent. To be angry. And truth was that Steve was angry, but not at Bucky, how could he? Everyone else was at fault. He was angry at himself, for letting Bucky fall at first place, for even asking him as part of his team when Bucky could have gone home after Austria. Bucky might have come anyway, but back then Steve hadn’t even considered not asking. And he was angry at HYDRA, at everyone that had used Bucky. He was angry at SHIELD too, for letting HYDRA in and sheltering it for decades. Unknowingly, but still. That last bit of anger was complicated, since it felt like it was directed to people he didn’t really want to be angry at.

He was angry, and the anger was a difficult mess, and at some point he’d have to sort it out in his head, but it wasn’t the time right now. He was with Bucky, and all that really mattered to him was to find his footing, to find out what kind of a person he himself was these days in the future. Because it may have been only a few weeks according to his consciousness that he’d lived without Bucky, but he knew the experiences had taken their toll, and he hadn’t really come to terms with them yet. He also felt that somehow the years in the ice had also changed him, maybe as profoundly as the moments in Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark’s pod.

What Steve did was push all that had happened to background and just concentrated on the moment, on Bucky by his side. He pressed deeper into his seat, watched Bucky driving at the corner of his eye. He knew that Bucky knew he was watching, but somehow it seemed to matter if he pretended to be discreet about it. If he fully turned his head and just stared like he so often felt like doing, Bucky unconsciously tensed. It might have been something to do with his instincts gained from the HYDRA training, Steve wasn’t sure since it seemed more complicated than that. Right now though he didn’t try to unpack it too much.

The drive was long, and they didn’t talk a lot during it, but the silence was always comfortable. Almost surprisingly so, since they were both conscious of how much they’d changed, how drastically their destinies had diverged before coming together again. Yet, they still fit together, without having to think about it.

At one of the cities Steve got a sketchpad and pencils and started drawing in the car. It was all things from the now, things he could see. The scenery from the car window. Unfamiliar silhouettes of the cities they saw. Bucky, as he was now. Hair longer, stubble growing at his jaw, the metal arm and hand he mostly kept covered. His eyes that had seen so much since Steve knew him in the war, but were still him, still Bucky.

***

One evening, after mostly sticking to smaller roads instead of highways, they stopped for groceries, Steve letting Bucky do the choosing since he was still reeling from the sheer amount of everything. Then they drove on and at dusk came to a house, almost isolated, with no one else living within miles.

The house was impersonal in a way, there were no photographs, no journals or letters or anything indicating its owner, and yet to Steve it felt like Bucky, in the way things had been arranged. There was also a thread of unfamiliarity, the safe spots and places to hide weapons and sightlines that he caught. It was all bits of this new Bucky he was getting to know. He left his few belongings onto a chair in living room, and they made dinner. The kitchen was fairly basic, although there were appliances that to Steve were new but he already could tell that they were probably a couple of decades old. The mix of old and new could have been disorienting, but Bucky moved in the middle of it all, knowing where everything was, and it grounded Steve.

He wondered if it would take long before he stopped feeling like he was about to float away without an anchor.

That night Steve slept better than he had yet in the future, and woke up into early morning birdsong. There was a pot half full of still hot coffee, and he found Bucky sitting on the porch, smoking. He sat down as well, closer than was probably necessary, except Bucky leaned right back to him, their shoulder bumping just as before, and finally Steve could believe there was a life to be had here in the future. Felt like it was worth it to make plans.

For a while he wanted to just stay here, with Bucky to find out all the facets there were to find in between them. And there was a promise made, decades earlier. One that probably wasn’t quite that relevant anymore.

Steve also knew it couldn’t last, he wouldn’t be able to just stay here in isolation, however much he wanted to be with Bucky. He was only learning about future, but he thought there were still things to be done for him. He would have to find his place, whether it was with SHIELD, whether it had to do with the Avengers he didn’t know, but he was going to carve one for himself. And there were people he wanted to connect to. Sam, and Sharon whom he’d only met briefly, but who Bucky had talked to him about. The other Avengers, a group that wasn’t a team yet but could become one, if they wanted. There were so many possibilities.

And he promised to himself that this time he’d do everything better, because he’d learned from the war. This time he’d do everything to not lose what he had because he was too blind. He leaned a bit closer to Bucky, stole his cigarette and smiled into the morning.

 

* * *

 

It took no time at all for James to get used to Steve’s presence. He had expected it would be difficult, had expected to be startled by another person moving around the house, but it was easy. Since he’d long ago accepted that nothing was likely to be easy, he was shocked and grateful to find that this, of all things, was.

They made up a routine where they woke up early, and Steve went running while James did his daily security and perimeter check. Afterwards they made breakfast, and went through news, and James found himself snorting at the incredulous looks Steve directed at him when something about the future struck him as unlikely. Day by day Steve adapted, as James had known he would. Maybe it had been Project Rebirth and being a product of something so unlikely, but Steve had always been able to take all the new HYDRA tech more on the stride than any of them, and the same attitude was visible here. Just another thing, or another thousand things, for him to learn. Bit by bit Steve started to delve into histories, and James found him often cursing at the books or the internet, shaking his head and saying, “Sometimes we people are just idiots Buck.”

It wasn’t all just getting Steve adjusted into future, getting James adjusted into Steve being alive. There were quiet afternoons when they settled in the chairs on the porch, with coffee and, in James’ case, smoking, reading or Steve sketching or just passing time. As if they really were 94 and 95 years old. It was a mirror on many afternoons they’d spent sat on a fire escape in Brooklyn that only lived in memories and photographs.

Every once in awhile James felt like pinching himself, because none of the predictions of how it could go wrong had come true. He wasn’t in custody, Steve didn’t hate him, hadn’t rejected him. Instead he had what he’d dared to think of as a best case scenario. It wasn’t perfect, as he knew it never would be. There were still wounds that they both were healing, still issues that needed to be sorted out.

He knew about Steve’s guilt, but there wasn’t much that could be done about it right now. He also knew that Steve couldn’t just live like this, away from everything, for years and years like James had. Steve would leave, because he’d find something he’d see as his duty, and James wasn’t quite sure what he’d do then. But he thought they could make it all work out, whatever their choices, if only because Steve believed that they could.

Late one night they were leaning to the railing of the porch, watching stars blink in the black sky, and Steve had spoken about some of his tentative hopes. His voice had been low, so low that James had felt it more than heard, Steve whispering about future into the night.

“I know we can make it work. At some point I think I need to go, but I get it now that we don’t need to do all the same things for us to work. I’ll go and you can decide whether you want to or not. I know you probably don’t and it’s fair, you’ve done more than enough. And I’ll always come back. Always.”

There had been certainty in Steve’s voice, enough to believe it. James knew he meant it, but he also knew that it always didn’t matter how much one meant what they said in relation to how true any given promise ended up being. And yet, there was the undeniable thing that they had already come back. They’d both gone through hell and defied death and here they were, together.

Maybe there was something to promises, even those that turned out not to last.

***

They had always been close, and as years had passed they’d grown more so. At some point they’d realised that if they let it happen, there were no limits to them. But it had been in the thirties, and to just let it happen would have meant hiding forever, and Steve especially wasn’t built for that. They only saw it ending in grief. That’s why they’d talked about limits. It had been the only thing they talked about, because it was the only thing that wasn’t there, carved in their bones. They’d agreed what they could be to each other, and what they couldn’t, and then they’d stuck to it, made it their lives. Had made it the one promise they always kept. They’d been everything to each other, and not.

But it wasn’t 1930’s or 40’s anymore.

It was a day much like any other, except that it rained, which was rare enough. James stood at the window, watching the dust wash away from the trees, his coffee cup empty and forgotten in his hand. Steve appeared at his side, silent as he sometimes managed, and James reveled in the knowledge that he hadn’t flinched at his sudden presence. Steve didn’t say anything, just took the mug from his hand and set it on the window sill. Then he stepped closer to James, eyes serious and clear.

They had never done it before, had never let themselves, not even in the war after some unlikely survival, when the adrenaline rush had made them reckless. They had always stuck to that one promise, until now. James’s hands moved without thought, one to Steve’s waist, another to cup his neck and it was only when it was way too late that he remembered to think about his prosthetic. Steve didn’t seem to mind, just pulled James closer by his shirt and then their lips met soft and slow.

It wasn’t like any kiss he’d had before, it was less urgent because they weren’t in hurry anywhere, and yet it felt more intimate than anything he remembered. But of course it was, because it was Steve, it couldn’t be anything less with Steve. They stood there just kissing, bodies brushing against each other, and James knew at some point he’d want to take it on some available flat surface, but not yet. Not when he finally felt like he’d come home.

***

James woke up first, naked and tangled in the sheets, Steve asleep with his arm thrown over him. The sun wasn’t up yet, but looking at the sky he knew it was going to be another hot day. Usually he’d be getting up, itching to secure all his perimeters, both physical and digital. This time he felt no compulsion to leave. He knew he’d get to it eventually, there was probably nothing that could make him forget his distrust but it was something. Right now he was content to stay in bed.

Next to him Steve shifted, pressed his face at James neck and mumbled, “Go back to sleep, Buck, I can hear you thinking. Too early for that.”

James let himself be pulled closer, Steve settling his head on his shoulder, and as he was drifting away it finally occurred to him that Steve kept calling him Bucky. He hadn’t really noticed it, since anything else from Steve’s mouth would have been odd, but in context it was remarkable.

Back in the day, when he’d started to come to himself after HYDRA’s brainwashing, the medical personnel had asked how he wanted to be addressed, and he’d forbidden anyone ever to call him Bucky. Later he’d asked the same of his remaining family. For decades he’d only been James, or which ever fake name he’d chosen, and he’d believed the other name was left behind for good.

Turned out he’d been wrong, and he couldn’t have been more grateful than he was there in their bed, tangling his fingers in Steve’s hair and finally falling into dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This was relatively easy writing process, the idea came to me pretty much fully formed, and then it mostly just flowed.
> 
> Any questions etc, I'll be happy to reply in the comments or on [tumblr](http://stellahibernis.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, I'll go back to gnashing my teeth in anticipation of CACW.


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